Across the Universe
August 16th 2014:
7pm:
I stare through my vintage camera, the picture cracking at the sides and click record.
The sky is putting on a show for me. It has turned the most amazing shades of orange and pink and the clouds have gathered below the sun, as if they are watching too.
I pull my hair out of my face unable to look away from the window.
The plane slices through it all and I can’t help feel as though I am an intruder in someone else’s home.
Thousands of feet above solid ground, where I belong. And yet here we all are, flying through the sky with no true acknowledgement of the miracle taking place around us.
The speakers above me crackle and I am snapped out of my trance by the captain's voice.
“We have just touched down in London. Thank you for flying American Airlines.”
I quickly close my camera and wrap it carefully around my neck and wiggle in my seat, unable to contain my excitement. Finally after waiting in a seemingly never ending line to exit the plane, I take my first steps on British soil. I feel giddy.
I glide through customs, grab my bags and I waste no time running out to hail a taxi. I snap a picture of the adorably stereotypical yellow car and I get drenched by the cold rain. My hair curls up around my face and I feel cold to my bones, but I don’t care. I turn my head towards the sky and twirl around, laughing to myself. And when I see strangers staring at me I shoot them a smile and wave as I slide into the taxi. They must think I am some crazy tourist. Maybe I am.. The Beatles, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben. London has a lot to offer.
I slip the taxi driver the address I was provided with and his accent makes me smile even wider. He drives me through the city and once again my camera is glued to my face. I’ve travelled across the world and still I find every place is like it’s own little microcosm. No two places are ever the same and I can already tell I will love London’s little differences. Travelling gives me a rush I have yet to find anywhere else.
When we arrive at the address, the driver assists me with my bag and speeds away, leaving me in front of this magnificent building: The Trafalgar Hotel.
I am astonished my ‘secret’ client can afford it. I never imagined I would stay in a place like this. So I stand immediately in front of the hotel staring with my mouth hanging open. I almost wonder if I am at the wrong place, but when I check the addresses match.
When my professor told me he had recommended me for a position as a cinematographer in a music video my heart practically jumped out of my chest.
And when the client’s manager called and offered me the job, I actually screamed over the phone. I always knew I was good but to be hired for a job like this right after I graduate, it’s practically unheard of in the industry. Out of hundreds of students studying film at NYU they chose me. It’s all so unreal, like I am having some crazy dream. I had figured I would be working with a small up and coming musician but I am not so sure anymore. I have been thinking about it for days. Why the artist must remain secret, why they choose me. It’s so strange.
and the biggest question of all: what if this is my big break?
Finally I take a deep breath and enter the hotel. If this is a dream, I am at least gonna have fun. The lobby looks like it was designed for royalty but it doesn’t hold a candle to my suite. The room is the most decadent thing I have ever seen. I couldn’t even begin to guess how much it must cost to stay even one night here.
There is a king bed covered with silky soft sheets and I imagine sleeping in it is the closest I will ever get to sleeping on a cloud. Above the bed there is a crystal chandelier that probably costs more then my whole apartment and towards the other side of the room, their is a deck looking out on Trafalgar Square.
I immediately feel very intimidated by it all. Everything looks as though it belongs in a museum. But I decide to indulge while I can. I certainly won’t miss the ‘comfort’ of my shoebox apartment, in the Bronx.
I place my suitcase in the corner of the room and pump up some music.
Ironic by Alanis Morissette. Cause isn’t it?
After a few minutes of playing ‘princess’ in my ‘castle, I change into something warmer and pull my hair into a messy fish-tail braid. I almost unpack into a drawer but I decide against it, leaving everything in my suitcase. Finally I brush my teeth and grab my purse. It’s already 11pm and I am exhausted from the flight but I am determined to see Trafalgar Square.
****
11pm
I pull my jacket tight around me and walk down one of the most famous streets in the world.
Although it’s late at night the city is still full of life and I remember one of my favourite quotes.
“Often I think that the night is more alive and richly coloured than the day.- Vincent Van Gogh”
As I approach the Big Ben and the London Eye I begin to speed up my walk until I can no longer contain myself. I run down the Thames Bridge smiling and twirling, video camera in hand.
The Big Ben is gorgeous all lite up and Westminster Abbey is hundreds of years of history at my fingertips. After an hour, I stop in a small souvenir shop to buy a postcard, pick up a hot chocolate I can’t afford, and sit on the edge of the river.
A boy around my age is singing a french song a block away, taking all the change he can get and I bob my head to the music and close my eyes.
I wrap my cold hands around the best hot chocolate I have ever had and try not to gulp it down too fast. I sit like that for what simultaneously feels like seconds and hours until I pull out my travel journal. The leather book looks worn and old and the pages are yellowing. I saved up for it for it for months when I was 14, almost 8 years ago. I wanted to find the right one and I finally did my first day in Chicago. I had run away from home for the first time and I was all by myself. I needed something to turn to and this book somehow was like a friend to me. It’s been one of the only consist things in my life, which come to think of it, seems kind of tragic. I push the thought away and scribble across the pages, the ink running slightly from the rain. Then I place the post card carefully in between the pages, before closing the book.
I film the water with the reflection of the London Eye spinning round and round before I slowly head back to my room, dropping my remaining change in the french boys cup. Completely drenched and a completely happy.
I stare through my vintage camera, the picture cracking at the sides and click record.
The sky is putting on a show for me. It has turned the most amazing shades of orange and pink and the clouds have gathered below the sun, as if they are watching too.
I pull my hair out of my face unable to look away from the window.
The plane slices through it all and I can’t help feel as though I am an intruder in someone else’s home.
Thousands of feet above solid ground, where I belong. And yet here we all are, flying through the sky with no true acknowledgement of the miracle taking place around us.
The speakers above me crackle and I am snapped out of my trance by the captain's voice.
“We have just touched down in London. Thank you for flying American Airlines.”
I quickly close my camera and wrap it carefully around my neck and wiggle in my seat, unable to contain my excitement. Finally after waiting in a seemingly never ending line to exit the plane, I take my first steps on British soil. I feel giddy.
I glide through customs, grab my bags and I waste no time running out to hail a taxi. I snap a picture of the adorably stereotypical yellow car and I get drenched by the cold rain. My hair curls up around my face and I feel cold to my bones, but I don’t care. I turn my head towards the sky and twirl around, laughing to myself. And when I see strangers staring at me I shoot them a smile and wave as I slide into the taxi. They must think I am some crazy tourist. Maybe I am.. The Beatles, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben. London has a lot to offer.
I slip the taxi driver the address I was provided with and his accent makes me smile even wider. He drives me through the city and once again my camera is glued to my face. I’ve travelled across the world and still I find every place is like it’s own little microcosm. No two places are ever the same and I can already tell I will love London’s little differences. Travelling gives me a rush I have yet to find anywhere else.
When we arrive at the address, the driver assists me with my bag and speeds away, leaving me in front of this magnificent building: The Trafalgar Hotel.
I am astonished my ‘secret’ client can afford it. I never imagined I would stay in a place like this. So I stand immediately in front of the hotel staring with my mouth hanging open. I almost wonder if I am at the wrong place, but when I check the addresses match.
When my professor told me he had recommended me for a position as a cinematographer in a music video my heart practically jumped out of my chest.
And when the client’s manager called and offered me the job, I actually screamed over the phone. I always knew I was good but to be hired for a job like this right after I graduate, it’s practically unheard of in the industry. Out of hundreds of students studying film at NYU they chose me. It’s all so unreal, like I am having some crazy dream. I had figured I would be working with a small up and coming musician but I am not so sure anymore. I have been thinking about it for days. Why the artist must remain secret, why they choose me. It’s so strange.
and the biggest question of all: what if this is my big break?
Finally I take a deep breath and enter the hotel. If this is a dream, I am at least gonna have fun. The lobby looks like it was designed for royalty but it doesn’t hold a candle to my suite. The room is the most decadent thing I have ever seen. I couldn’t even begin to guess how much it must cost to stay even one night here.
There is a king bed covered with silky soft sheets and I imagine sleeping in it is the closest I will ever get to sleeping on a cloud. Above the bed there is a crystal chandelier that probably costs more then my whole apartment and towards the other side of the room, their is a deck looking out on Trafalgar Square.
I immediately feel very intimidated by it all. Everything looks as though it belongs in a museum. But I decide to indulge while I can. I certainly won’t miss the ‘comfort’ of my shoebox apartment, in the Bronx.
I place my suitcase in the corner of the room and pump up some music.
Ironic by Alanis Morissette. Cause isn’t it?
After a few minutes of playing ‘princess’ in my ‘castle, I change into something warmer and pull my hair into a messy fish-tail braid. I almost unpack into a drawer but I decide against it, leaving everything in my suitcase. Finally I brush my teeth and grab my purse. It’s already 11pm and I am exhausted from the flight but I am determined to see Trafalgar Square.
****
11pm
I pull my jacket tight around me and walk down one of the most famous streets in the world.
Although it’s late at night the city is still full of life and I remember one of my favourite quotes.
“Often I think that the night is more alive and richly coloured than the day.- Vincent Van Gogh”
As I approach the Big Ben and the London Eye I begin to speed up my walk until I can no longer contain myself. I run down the Thames Bridge smiling and twirling, video camera in hand.
The Big Ben is gorgeous all lite up and Westminster Abbey is hundreds of years of history at my fingertips. After an hour, I stop in a small souvenir shop to buy a postcard, pick up a hot chocolate I can’t afford, and sit on the edge of the river.
A boy around my age is singing a french song a block away, taking all the change he can get and I bob my head to the music and close my eyes.
I wrap my cold hands around the best hot chocolate I have ever had and try not to gulp it down too fast. I sit like that for what simultaneously feels like seconds and hours until I pull out my travel journal. The leather book looks worn and old and the pages are yellowing. I saved up for it for it for months when I was 14, almost 8 years ago. I wanted to find the right one and I finally did my first day in Chicago. I had run away from home for the first time and I was all by myself. I needed something to turn to and this book somehow was like a friend to me. It’s been one of the only consist things in my life, which come to think of it, seems kind of tragic. I push the thought away and scribble across the pages, the ink running slightly from the rain. Then I place the post card carefully in between the pages, before closing the book.
I film the water with the reflection of the London Eye spinning round and round before I slowly head back to my room, dropping my remaining change in the french boys cup. Completely drenched and a completely happy.
Notes
Hope you guys enjoyed it! Don't hesitate to leave a comment. ;) More soon.-GR
